


A Helping Hand

by heyitsamorette (AmoretteHD)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Crushes, First Crush, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmoretteHD/pseuds/heyitsamorette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jojen is Bran's friend, and a good friend is always there to offer a helping hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place on the way to the wall. For the purposes of this story, Bran's legs are paralyzed but everything else works (heh) and he still has at least a little ability to move his hips. Also, I have aged them up to at least 14, although that is still underage so the warning still stands.

Bran shuffled on his mat, shaking his hips to get into a more comfortable position. He sat, as usual, propped up against the trunk of a large tree. Even though he’d spent years without the use of his legs, it still didn’t feel normal to him. Not by a longshot. He still had moments where he tried to take a step, or use his legs to roll himself over to get to sleep, and then there was that terrible shock all over again when he couldn’t. 

Today he was frustrated for another reason, however. 

They had been hiking this wilderness for weeks and they were still absolutely nowhere. Or at least it looked like nowhere to him; the same rolling hills and barren countryside day after day. It struck him that even though he had lived in the North his whole life, he had never really known just how vast it really was. Reaching the wall seemed an impossible task.

But today he was thinking of other things. 

Like how desperately he wanted to touch himself. 

But he never had any privacy anymore, and it was completely unfair because everyone else could just walk into the forest if they needed to get away, but Bran even needed Hodor to hold him up while he pissed. How long had it been since he last touched himself? Weeks, months maybe. He hardly knew anymore. His prick felt sorely neglected, and tonight it ached. It begged him for just a touch, just the brush of a hand. 

Bran exhaled hard through his nose, shifting again. How quiet could he be if he decided to touch himself right there, under his blanket? Maybe he could be quiet enough to rub one out quickly and no one would ever be the wiser. There was only Hodor anyway, so maybe Bran could get away with it. Meera was off hunting and Jojen was napping by his own tree. 

Bran looked away from Jojen and stamped out the odd feeling in his gut like Hodor stamped out the last embers of their fires. Thoughts of Jojen only made the aching down there worse. He tried not to torture himself with his silly fantasies, and he definitely tried not to think of Jojen’s smile and the glisten of the sun against his blond hair.

When he looked back up, Jojen’s gaze was on him. 

Bran swallowed and forced a smile, though it came out tight. Sometimes he honestly feared Jojen could read minds. Perhaps only his mind. The connection between them was sometimes so magnetic. Sometimes Bran yearned for Jojen’s nearness. 

It was probably because they were both wargs. Bran had never met another warg before -- hell, he hadn’t even known what a warg was before he met Jojen. That was the only reason he felt so strongly about him, wanted to be near him all the time. Wanted to talk to him about everything and learn everything there was to know. And Jojen knew so much. 

And again, like he somehow knew what Bran wanted, Jojen got up from his spot under the tree. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking down at Bran. The sky behind him was beginning to turn a dusky mauve with the setting sun. 

“Why would you think something’s wrong?”

Jojen’s lips turned up at the corners. He crouched down and faced Bran at eye-level.  
“Are you thirsty? I can get you some water.”

“No.” Bran hoped he didn’t notice the small bulge in his blanket. But just like magic, Jojen’s eyes flickered down. Only for a moment. 

“Do you need to turn over?”

“No,” Bran said, and then regretted the snap in his voice. 

“Is there something else? Something you’re not telling me?” Jojen leaned in. “You can tell me anything, you know. There don’t need to be any secrets between us.”

“And why is that?” 

Jojen only smiled. “We’re friends.”

It embarrassed him how pleased he felt. The feeling permeated him from the inside, warming him in this snowy wasteland better than any blanket could.

Bran sighed. “I can’t tell you this secret.”

“But I already know it.”

Bran’s pulse picked up. “No you don’t,” he whispered. 

Jojen fell to his knees and settled beside him. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Bran. We all do it. Sometimes you just need to be touched.” He slowly extended his hand, and Bran watched it, holding his breath. It came closer to his legs. 

“Stop.”

Jojen immediately paused, his gaze like a grip in Bran’s chest, making it hard to even breathe when he looked at him like that. It was like he was trying to stare straight into Bran’s soul, to see what he truly desired. Did Bran really want him to stop… or did he want Jojen to touch him? 

Bran swallowed. 

Without looking away, he called, “Hodor. I don’t think we have enough firewood. Could you go gather some, please?” The happily assenting, “ _Hodor_ ,” and the shuffling that followed meant that he and Jojen were soon very much alone in their little clearing. 

Bran suddenly realized how quiet the woods were. 

Jojen smiled.

“Well,” Bran said, his voice betraying none of the nerves underneath. “Go on.”

His hand finally reached Bran’s upper thigh, and the stab of longing and regret that washed over Bran was suffocating. He couldn’t feel a thing. 

But, oh… when Jojen moved his hand higher… Bran wished he could spread his legs, move in some way that would convey how much he liked it. That he wanted more. But Jojen was hesitating around Bran’s groin, and then he skipped over it altogether and rested his hand on the spot below Bran’s belly button. 

“Touch it,” Bran said. His cheeks immediately burned up and he set his jaw. But Jojen didn’t laugh at him or call him overly eager, he just smirked in his mysterious way and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. 

His fingers drifted over Bran’s groin, and Bran exhaled hard through his nose. The fingertips on his rapidly swelling cock--even over the blanket and his trousers--were such sweet torture. Jojen kept his eyes on him, cautious in his movements. 

“You’re not going to break me, you know,” Bran said. 

“So this _is_ what you want?”

“I thought you knew all my secrets,” Bran teased, throwing his cocky claim back at him.

“Then let me rephrase.” Jojen pressed down harder. “This is exactly what you want.”

Bran bit his lip. 

Jojen pulled down his blanket to the knee, exposing the waistband of his trousers. The tenting was much more obvious now. With his long, delicate fingers, Jojen unraveled the knot and undid the criss-crossing string. He hardly had to part it before the head of Bran’s cock peeked out, as if eager to meet Jojen’s hand. Jojen raised an eyebrow and ran the tip of one finger over the slit. 

Bran sucked in a breath. His precome glistened on Jojen’s finger, and over the head where Jojen rubbed it in small circles. Bran’s cock twitched. 

“I’m glad to see this still works just fine,” Jojen said. 

Bran smiled sheepishly. “Believe me, so am I.”

“I’m also particularly glad it works for me.” He gripped the shaft in his fist. 

Bran’s mouth fell open, and he wasn’t able to hold back a groan. “Doesn’t mean I fancy you,” he gritted out. He couldn’t have Jojen thinking that. What would the rest of the trip be like? How much more embarrassing would it be if Jojen knew Bran thought about him often, and more than once in the middle of the night?

“No,” Jojen said. “This doesn’t mean a thing.” He started to stroke up and down, spreading Bran’s slippery precome as he did. “I’m just lending you a helping hand.”

“My hands still work fine.”

“Then a friendly hand.”

“Yes.” Bran shut his eyes and leaned his head back. His brain was struggling to keep up. Jojen’s strokes were firm and warm and even, and soon Bran was lost in the rhythm of it. “Close,” he gritted out. He was about to open his eyes, but in that second he got his breath completely knocked out of him by the lips pressing against his own. 

Jojen’s kiss was like a riot in his chest, and Bran felt like this might be one of his dreams and he was soaring. Maybe when he opened his eyes again, he’d wake up. His head spun. His blood roared through his veins. And in no time at all, he was coming. 

Jojen gripped him harder as the waves rolled over him, and Bran moaned into the kiss. 

It ended just as quickly as it came. But Bran felt sort of drunk after. When Jojen pulled away, he could hardly see him for the fuzziness in his eyes. It took some moments, and some deep breaths, for the world to settle again. 

Jojen tucked Bran’s cock into his trousers and made quick work of tying them back up. “See?” he said. “Nothing to it.”

Bran wanted to kiss him again immediately. 

The sound of pounding feet killed that idea as Hodor came crashing back into the clearing, carrying a mountain of firewood in both arms. Bran wanted to kill him.

Jojen leaned in, lowering his voice. “Until next time you need a hand… friend.” He winked and got up. 

_Friend._

Bran was glad that, at least for now, he and Jojen were friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Contact me on tumblr: [@heyitsamorette](https://heyitsamorette.tumblr.com/)


End file.
